


Kol Nidre

by sheisraging



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Judaism, M/M, domestic porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 08:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16092059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheisraging/pseuds/sheisraging
Summary: 'Twas the day before Yom Kippur and wouldn't you guessThese guys decided to have a whole lotta sex





	Kol Nidre

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to [Ghostcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostcat/pseuds/Ghostcat), who wrote one of the [most beautiful stories ever](https://archiveofourown.org/series/981183) (and my personal favorite), and who asked for fan works on her birthday.
> 
> Warnings:  
> 1\. My specialties are domestic fluff and comedy  
> 2\. I have never written porn, ever  
> 3\. ...sorry.

“I was planning on going to services tomorrow morning,” Oliver says. “Would you like to come?”

Elio pauses mid-chew and looks up, frowns. “To synagogue?”

Oliver nods. “You do know it’s Yom Kippur.” He scoops a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“Yeah, I— it’s just been a long time since I’ve gone to temple,” Elio shrugs.

“Your parents didn’t take you?”

“They did, usually only on Yom Kippur — ours was a much more cultural than religious observance.” Elio admits, “I’ve lapsed since coming to the states.”

“I see,” Oliver grins. “It’s a good thing you’ve taken up with a nice Jewish boy, then.”

Elio snickers and kicks his foot under the table. “Why didn’t you go for Rosh Hashanah?”

“Tradition, I suppose. My parents preferred to have family and friends over for dinner for the new year. I occasionally went to temple with my father, but he often had to work. We always fasted and then went to temple for Yom Kippur.”

“Ah, so, you fast,” Elio notes and Oliver nods. “What else?”

“I’m not overly devout,” Oliver shrugs. “Technically we’re meant to abstain from sex and washing. I’ve done the former. The latter when it’s practical.”

Elio’s eyes widen. “I’m not sure I have the willpower to abide you doing those two things simultaneously.”

“I think you can make it 24 hours,” Oliver snorts. “Just takes a little patience.”

Elio fixes him with a skeptical look. He drops his spoon into his empty bowl and props his elbows on the table, leans toward Oliver. “What time is sundown?”

Oliver licks his lower lip, watches Elio’s eyes trace the movement and smirks. “Quarter to seven.”

Elio puffs out a breath and nods. “We’d better get it all in while we can.”

“Is that some kind of euphemism?”

“Nope,” Elio shakes his head, slips out of his seat and straddles Oliver’s lap.

\---

Oliver grits his teeth, fingertips digging hard into Elio’s hips. He slides his feet against the mattress, pushes the tangle of sweaty sheets further down the bed. He breathes in, deep, through his nose, holds for one, two, three beats and exhales through his mouth. 

Elio grins down at him, mouth open, tongue poking at the corner of his lips. “What’s your hurry?”

“You’re the one who said we’d better get it all in,” Oliver chokes out. He’s lost sense of how long it’s been, how many times they’ve been right at the edge and then slowed, stopped, pulled out. Pushed back in, even slower this time.

“I did,” Elio nods, lets himself sink a little lower, take a little more. Oliver gasps, tries to thrust deeper and Elio pulls himself back up, clenches, sinks, and lifts up again. 

_“Fuck,”_ Oliver groans, presses his head into the pillow, arches his back away from the mattress. Tries to focus on pressure in other parts of his body. Focus on anything but the tip of his dick in the slick, slow heat of Elio’s hole. The delicious, sustained agony of clench-dip-clench-rise as Elio fucks himself on just the tip until Oliver thinks he might explode. 

Elio leans forward, heels of his hands digging into the balls of Oliver’s shoulders. He balances his weight there, keeps Oliver where he wants him. 

“I’m learning to be patient,” Elio murmurs against Oliver’s open mouth. “Is it working?”

Oliver’s lips curve up and Elio dips his tongue between them, curls it behind his teeth. Oliver huffs, scratches gently down Elio’s trembling thighs, sucks on his tongue. “It’s working,” he breathes, damp against Elio’s cheek. He squeezes his eyes shut, breath catching and stuttering out, as Elio tightens around him again. 

Elio nods, tilts his forehead down against Oliver’s chin. “Good,” he whispers. He waits until Oliver’s breath evens out, until the death grip on his thighs turns back to soothing palms. He slides his hands down Oliver’s chest, settles them just below his ribs, and sits up, sinks back, takes Oliver in all the way to the hilt. 

Oliver immediately follows him up, hands wide, firm around his hips, holding him in place. _“Fuck fuck fuck f— don’t move, don’t—”_ he mutters, eyes closed, forehead pressed to Elio’s temple.

Elio shivers, stills. Let’s Oliver breathe while he gently skims fingers up over his arms, shoulders, neck, into his hair. He turns his head, licks a bead of sweat as it trickles down the side of Oliver’s face. He rolls his hips and Oliver hisses, pulls his head back and cups Elio’s cheek, swipes his thumb over his plump lower lip and into Elio’s mouth. 

Elio sucks, wet and sloppy, until saliva drips down the side of Oliver’s hand. Oliver watches, eyelids low, lips quirked and open in a half grin. He pulls his thumb from Elio’s mouth and drags it down his chest, leaving a sticky trail in its wake. He wraps his hand around Elio’s cock, swipes his thumb over the head. Elio sucks in a gasp and Oliver seals their mouths together, lets Elio exhale into him. 

They kiss and kiss while Oliver slowly strokes Elio’s cock, matches the rhythm of Elio’s hips rolling against him, taking him deep, deeper. Elio is wet, sweating, moaning into Oliver’s mouth. 

“I’m gonna come,” he whispers, face pressed to Oliver’s cheek. 

Oliver nods, loops an arm around Elio’s waist, plants his other hand behind himself on the bed. “Touch yourself,” he murmurs, lips to Elio’s ear. He thrusts up, hard, and Elio throws his head back, arches into him. 

Elio drops one hand from Oliver’s shoulder, wraps it around his cock and strokes himself once, twice. He runs his fingertips over the head and pulls his hand away, wet with precome. He catches Oliver’s eyes, smiles, breathless, and reaches behind himself, touches his fingers to his rim, lets two fingers glide over Oliver’s cock as it thrusts in and out of him.

Oliver grins, tightens the curl of his arm at Elio’s hips. “Thought you were gonna come,” he murmurs, leans in to lick the furrow between Elio’s brows. 

“Yeah,” Elio nods. “Gonna make you come first, though,” he pants. He wraps both arms back around Oliver’s neck and crosses his legs behind his waist, digs his heels in. He rolls his hips down, matches Oliver’s thrusts, bites into the meat of his shoulder. 

_“Fuck,”_ Oliver grunts. He cups the back of Elio’s head and flips them, lays him out on the bed, pulls Elio’s hips into his lap. 

Elio hisses, curls both fists into his hair, moans each time Oliver drives into him. _“Oh, fuck ohfuck, ohfff—”_ His hands flail desperately for an anchor as his back arches away from the mess of sheets beneath him. He reaches down for Oliver’s wrists and gasps when Oliver grabs his hands and falls forward, traps his cock between their bellies, grinds their hips down against the mattress. He pins Elio’s arms over his head and pulls almost all the way out, brings everything to a slow, shuddering, drag.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Elio curses, turns his head and bites at his arm. Tries to breathe. 

Oliver opens his mouth against Elio’s jaw, nips gently, drags lips-tongue-teeth up, over the apple of his cheek, kisses across to the sensitive spot in front of his ear. Flicks the lobe with his tongue and breathes hot against his skin. He rests his forehead against Elio’s temple and thrusts all the way in, groans into Elio’s mouth when he turns to kiss him. 

Oliver sets a new pace, fucking Elio in slow, short drags out, deep thrusts in. He keeps his eyes locked on Elio’s, watches his lids drop and snap back open, watches the dark of his pupils widen. The pattern of his breathing changes, the panting, gasping rise of Elio’s chest moves to an undulating wave of his stomach. 

“Yeah?” Oliver whispers, soft as Elio’s body clamps down around him. 

Elio nods, tips his head back. 

The grip of their hands tighten where they’re still clasped above his head. Elio moans, arching up and spilling between them, warm and messy across his stomach. He makes a sound between a whimper and a sigh, hips continuing their slow roll against Oliver’s, unable to still himself after being aroused for so long.

Oliver kisses him, once, twice, three times. His hips picking up speed as he ducks his head against Elio’s shoulder and drags his hands down to fist into his hair. Elio wraps his arms around Oliver, clutches at his shoulders, scratches down his back and squeezes his ass. He pulls one hand away, touching the slick skin between them, fingers sliding into the mess of sweat and come on his stomach. He spreads two fingers wide in it, coats them with as much as he can, reaches back and slips them between Oliver’s cheeks. 

Elio nudges Oliver’s head up, sucks his tongue into his mouth, relishes every gasping breath, every desperate rock of Oliver’s hips as he slowly pushes his middle finger past his rim. Oliver curses and shoves into him hard, hips stilling, then rutting in quick jerks as he comes. 

His fingers loosen in Elio’s hair, trail softly over his face, neck, shoulders. He spreads his arms out wide across the bed to either side of them, lets his full weight sink onto Elio. 

“Can’t fall asleep,” Elio mumbles after a few minutes’ quiet. He skims both hands up and down Oliver’s back. “We have to shower before sunset. Can’t go to synagogue with you smelling like this. I’ll never make it.”

Oliver snorts against his neck. “How can you already be thinking about doing it again?”

Elio shrugs, “You bring it out of me.” Oliver can feel him smile against his forehead. “Besides, I’m thinking about tomorrow, not right now.”

“Come on,” Oliver chuckles, heaving himself up and off the bed. He reaches out a hand for Elio, tugs him along toward the shower. “We also have to eat,” he says, a reminder for them both. 

“How much time left before sunrise?” Elio asks, glancing around for the alarm clock on the bedside table.

“‘Bout two hours,” Oliver says, leading them into the bathroom. He turns the water on and holds his hand under the spray, waits until it warms up and steps in, nodding for Elio to follow. 

Elio steps in and waits for Oliver to soak his hair before ducking under the spray himself. “What should we do for dinner?” he asks, blinking water from his eyes. 

“I can go pick up a pizza,” Oliver suggests. “Should be quick.”

Elio nods, taps at Oliver’s hip so he’ll turn around. He lathers soap over his shoulders, down his back, over his ass, kneels on the shower floor to cover the backs of Oliver’s thighs, knees, the rounds of his calves, the dips of his ankles. Oliver turns back around at the nudge of a hand, watches Elio run soap over the tops of his feet, his shins, rising up on his knees to reach his thighs and in between. Elio’s hands slow and he tilts his head up, catches Oliver’s eyes and darts his tongue out against the tip of his cock, sucks it between his lips for a second, lets it go with a kiss. Oliver shakes his head, huffs out a laugh and reaches down to tug Elio back to his feet.

Oliver squeezes shampoo into his palm and massages it into Elio’s hair, nudging him under the spray to rinse while he shampoos his own. Elio holds Oliver’s waist and turns them once he’s done. He runs the soap over Oliver’s chest and belly, letting the water wash everything away, then ducking under the spray once more as Oliver hops out of the shower to dry off.

\---

Elio has toweled off, changed the sheets on the bed, and set out plates, napkins, and two glasses of water by the time Oliver comes back with their dinner. They sprawl out on the floor in front of the sofa and each devour three slices of pizza. Elio tosses his crusts back into the box after he finishes each slice and Oliver pulls all three back out to nibble on once his pizza is gone. 

“Are you still hungry?” Elio asks, watching Oliver chew at his last discarded pizza crust.

Oliver shakes his head. “Can’t eat anymore, anyway,” he says, nodding toward the clock on the VCR. “It’s five minutes to sundown.” He tosses the last bit of crust into the box and gets up to clear it from the table.

Elio follows, bringing the glasses and plates into the kitchen. He drinks the rest of his water and pushes Oliver’s half full glass into his hands. “You still have three minutes,” he says, nodding at Oliver to drink. He takes the pizza box from Oliver’s hand and folds it down, brings it out with the trash while Oliver rinses the rest of the dishes.

The kitchen is dark when he gets back inside, so he turns out the rest of the lights and goes upstairs to the bedroom. Oliver’s tossed his clothes into the hamper and tugged on a pair of pajama pants. He’s brushing his teeth in the bathroom when Elio comes up beside him and picks up his toothbrush.

“So, I guess this is fine, as long as you don’t swallow?” Elio asks, straight-faced.

Oliver’s eyes slide over to him in the mirror. He grins around his toothbrush, watches Elio struggle not to do the same. Oliver leans over and spits into the sink, splashes some water into his mouth, rinses and spits it out again.

“As long as you don’t swallow,” he says, smacks a kiss to Elio’s cheek and walks out.

When Elio comes out of the bathroom, Oliver is in bed reading, one arm tucked behind his head, blanked pulled up over his waist.

“It’s not even 8 o’clock,” Elio points out, though he climbs into bed, too. He tucks himself against Oliver’s side, slips an arm around him.

“You don’t have to join me,” Oliver murmurs, curling his free arm around Elio’s back.

Elio doesn’t reply, only burrows closer, face tucked against Oliver’s neck. Oliver chuckles, turns and sets his book aside on the nightstand, flicks the light off. He rolls back toward Elio and gathers him in.

“What time are services tomorrow?” Elio mumbles into Oliver’s chest.

“Quarter to ten,” Oliver says. “I set the alarm for 8:30, since we can’t eat, shower, or fuck, it shouldn’t take us all that long to get there.”

They’re both laughing quietly by the time he finishes his sentence.

Elio pulls back suddenly, looks up at Oliver with a frown. “I forgot to ask if we can kiss.”

Oliver leans in, kisses him, soft and chaste. “We can kiss.”

They curl back into one another, Elio sighing happily when Oliver’s fingers begin carding through his hair.

“Elio,” Oliver whispers after they’ve been quiet for a short while. “You still awake?”

“Mm,” Elio hums. He tilts his head back when Oliver moves to look down at him.

“We don’t have to— these are my traditions,” Oliver says quietly. “It’s just what I’m used to. Next year, if you want to do something different, or not to anything at all— we can make our own traditions.”

“Oliver,” Elio puffs out a soft laugh, shifts up so his head is beside Oliver’s on the pillow and kisses his cheek, then his lips. He pulls back and smiles. “We’re already making our own traditions.”

**Author's Note:**

> * This story takes place in September of 1990 (specifically September 28, 1990, which was the day/night before Yom Kippur)
> 
> * Kol Nidre is the opening prayer of Yom Kippur; Its literal translation is "All Vows," but its full meaning and reason for why we say it is very much open to interpretation, depending on where you look or who you ask
> 
> * I'm working on a much longer E/O story that takes place about 6 years after the film's final phone call, but also borrows some plot from the book. This story falls into the same overall universe as that story eventually will... I hope to finish it sometime this decade.
> 
> * Special thanks to [Provenance](http://provenance.tumblr.com/) for the beta read!


End file.
